


Christmas is all around us, and so the feeling grows

by theglitterati



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cats, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Not The Angst You're Looking For, There is Only Fluff Here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are the only members of Les Amis who are staying in the city over the Christmas holidays. They've never hung out alone without the group - until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enjolras

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from that song from Love Actually. You know the one.
> 
> Thanks and Christmas cheer to my wonderful beta [Carol](http://ronnlynch.tumblr.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: The Amis are grad students in this. That's why they aren't suffering through exams all December.

It was the second week of December, and though Christmas was still three weeks away, the holiday spirit was heavy in the crisp wintry air. On the street outside the Café Musain, window shoppers and actual shoppers crowded the sidewalk, their bags and packages rustling against those of others as they navigated the crowd. Had one of those shoppers taken a moment from their busy day to look inside the café, they would have seen a long table seating thirteen guests, a hunched figure with dark curls at one end, and a pretty blond in a Santa hat at the other.

Inside, the Christmas party was in full swing, the group of students laughing and passing casserole dishes around, the café having allowed their favourite customers to hold a potluck there so that there would be more eat than just muffins and scones. The atmosphere was more jubilant and sociable than ever, as this was the last time they would all be together until the new year.

Though there were separate conversations going on, each member of the group had one ear trained on the conversation that Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were having at the end of the table. The students were all simply used to listening to their group leader’s voice.

“I still feel so bad that you’re staying here over the break,” Courfeyrac was saying. “Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me?”

“Or me?” Combeferre added. “I told you my family said that you were more than welcome.”

“Thank you again, but no,” Enjolras answered. “I would feel awkward. And I don’t mind spending the time alone; I’ll be able to get tons of work done.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t be working; you should be out there gathering up Christmas cheer! Lord knows you need some.”

Enjolras scowled. “This hat you’re forcing me to wear is giving me all the Christmas cheer I need. Do I still have to keep it on?” Courfeyrac and Combeferre nodded fervently.

“Lovely,” Enjolras said, reaching up to adjust the hat. It was making his head itchy.

“I just can’t stand the thought of you all alone on Christmas,” Courfeyrac continued, whining. “You’ll be so lonely and sad.”

“I don’t think I will. I really couldn’t care less about Christmas,” Enjolras replied. “And if I did, telling me repeatedly how depressed I’m going to be wouldn’t be helpful.”

“He’s right,” Combeferre said to Courfeyrac, chastising. He glanced down the table. “Are we sure that no one is staying? We discussed our plans for the break a month ago; maybe someone has changed their schedule.”

“I’m staying,” Grantaire piped up from the opposite end of the table, where he was leaning back on the rear legs of his chair.

“You are?” Enjolras asked. “Did your family change their plans or something?”

“No,” Grantaire replied, letting his chair fall forward. “I was never going home. You just never asked me.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “Sorry.” Grantaire simply shrugged.

“Well, that’s great!” Courfeyrac added exuberantly. “Now you’ll have someone to hang out with while we’re gone!”

Enjolras furrowed his brow, not responding.

It wasn’t that he disliked Grantaire… it was just that he didn’t really like him, either. He simply had no information to work with. He and Grantaire had hardly ever had a conversation that didn’t turn into a half-hour long debate on green energy or the rights of campus security or whatever topic they were yelling at each other about that day. They had certainly never spent any time alone together.

“Don’t get too excited about my company,” Grantaire muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said again – he felt like he was apologizing a lot today. “It’s just that… I don’t think we have much in common. Outside of the group, I mean. We’ve never really hung out.”

“And we don’t have to start now,” Grantaire added bitterly.

Now Enjolras felt bad. This was one of the times when Combeferre would normally tell him that he was being “unsociable”. He decided to try doing the opposite of what he would normally do.

“We should,” Enjolras told Grantaire. “We should hang out.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I would like to get to know you better.”

Grantaire simply stared at him for a moment. Then a small smile appeared on his face, and Enjolras felt his lips form a matching one.

“Okay,” Grantaire said simply. “You can just let me know when.”

“Okay,” Enjolras agreed.

***

Enjolras spent the next three days holed up in his apartment, only leaving to purchase groceries and coffee from the corner shop. He finished the final edits of his seminar papers and turned them in via email, then spent time catching up on both local and international news stories that he had missed while he worked on them.

On the third day, he grew bored of sitting alone at his desk, and decided it was time to go out and do something. All of his friends had left for their hometowns on the two days following the potluck, so Enjolras pulled out his phone to text Grantaire. Then he sighed.

 **Enjolras to Combeferre:** _Do you have Grantaire’s phone number?_

Thankfully, Combeferre did.

 **Enjolras to Grantaire:** _Hi. Are you free today? Would you like to do something?_

 **Grantaire:** _Yeah, sure. Do you want to come over for dinner?_

**Enjolras:** _Okay. We can split on a pizza or something?_

**Grantaire:** _I was going to cook some actual food? Unless you really want pizza._

**Enjolras:** _Actual food would be great, but I don’t want to impose. I’m a vegetarian, so cooking for me can be difficult._

**Grantaire:** _Yeah, I know you’re a vegetarian. I already have a recipe planned._

Enjolras pulled back from his phone, pleasantly surprised. He had told all of his friends about his choice to become a vegetarian, and the difficulty that he faced at first, but that was months ago, and he knew that he hadn’t mentioned it much since. He was a bit touched that Grantaire remembered, considering that they weren’t very close.

**Enjolras:** _That would be great. Thank you. What time should I come over?_

Grantaire told him to come over around six, and then told Enjolras his address when Enjolras asked. They ended this conversation then, Enjolras leaving his phone to go and get ready.

When Enjolras arrived at Grantaire’s building – an old family home that had been turned into a triplex, a common type of housing in the city – it was just beginning to snow, weightless snowflakes floating straight down through the still air. Enjolras was half-tempted to stick out his tongue to catch one, but he felt it would look odd to do so alone on the doorstep. Despite the beauty of the fresh powder, however, it was still quite chilly, so Enjolras was glad when Grantaire opened the door and let him into his very warm ground-floor apartment.

“You’re just in time,” Grantaire told Enjolras as he removed his coat and shoes. “Dinner’s ready.”

Enjolras could already smell it, and it smelled delicious. “What is it?” he asked.

“Potato curry,” Grantaire said, as he ladled some of the food into a bowl and passed it to Enjolras. “You can look at the recipe if you want to be sure it’s vegetarian. I won’t be offended.”

Enjolras was tempted to check the recipe, as he always made sure to double-check his food before eating it. But Grantaire had chosen this recipe with him in mind, so he trusted him enough to believe that he’d put some effort into verifying it already.

“I don’t need to,” Enjolras said. Grantaire finished filling his own bowl and then gathered cutlery. Grantaire’s apartment didn’t have a dinner table, so they took their bowls over to the couch.

Enjolras sat down, but Grantaire placed his bowl on the coffee table and headed back to the part of the main room that comprised the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked.

Enjolras couldn’t stop himself from huffing quietly. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he said somewhat derisively.

Grantaire ignored his tone. “I have other options. Coke, apple juice, or water?”

Enjolras looked down, feeling slightly stupid. “I’ll have a Coke,” he answered. Grantaire grabbed two cans from the fridge before joining him on the couch. Enjolras was surprised to see that Grantaire wasn’t drinking something stronger; then he felt even stupider for thinking it.

Enjolras had waited politely for Grantaire to sit down before he started eating, but now he indulged, scooping up a big mouthful. He really was quite hungry, having eaten nothing but a bagel for breakfast that morning.

“Oh my god,” he said, barely remembering to swallow before talking. “This is delicious.” Enjolras couldn’t remember the last time he had tasted something so good. He had certainly never cooked anything even remotely close to that good himself.

“Thanks,” Grantaire replied with a shrug. He was using the remote and the PS3 controller to open Netflix on the TV across from them.

Enjolras wasn’t sure that he was getting his strong feelings about the food across. “Seriously, Grantaire,” he continued, “this is like one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

Grantaire paused his scrolling then, turning to Enjolras with a smile. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said, turning back to the TV. “What do you want to watch?” he asked.

Enjolras didn’t want to be the one to choose. “Whatever you want is fine, R,” he said. It occurred to him a few seconds later that he had never used the nickname before, though his friends often did. It felt foreign on his tongue.

“You like Parks and Rec, right?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras nodded; it was one of his favourite shows. “How did you know that?”

“When Courfeyrac watched it last year, he called you Leslie Knope for a week, and you didn’t seem to mind too much.”

Enjolras laughed. He hadn’t minded the comparison at all.

Grantaire chose an episode at random, then settled back to eat his meal. Enjolras finished his food within the first ten minutes of the episode. He had already seen this episode a few hundred times, so he tuned out and started looking around Grantaire’s apartment instead.

Grantaire’s place was much shabbier than his own, but it was also more welcoming. Where the apartment Enjolras shared with Combeferre had stark white walls and hardwood floors, Grantaire’s had dark green walls and plush carpet. And none of Grantaire’s furniture looked like it had come from Ikea. Enjolras’s apartment could have been in a catalogue spread, but Grantaire’s place was a home _._

On the TV, April was trying to organize an animal adoption fair. Grantaire turned to Enjolras and asked, “How’s your cat?”

Enjolras was floored. He might have mentioned being a vegetarian a few times, and the Parks and Rec thing had an explanation, but his cat? Enjolras knew for a fact that he had never brought Rousseau up at a meeting. Partly because it was irrelevant, but mostly because everyone made fun of him for naming his cat Rousseau.

How was it possible that Grantaire knew so much about him, and he knew so little about Grantaire? There was a voice in his head (that sounded a lot like Combeferre) that was telling him that he really needed to start paying more attention to other people. Enjolras had thought that he and Grantaire simply weren’t that well-acquainted, but apparently the feeling was one-sided.

He didn’t voice any of these thoughts out loud, of course. He told Grantaire that his cat was just fine. Then he started interrogating Grantaire about his own life.

He knew that Grantaire was an art student; he could be counted on to remember at least a few basic details. He found out that Grantaire was working on a series of paintings which would be exhibited at the school at the end of the year and would count as his thesis. Enjolras asked to see them, but Grantaire told him they were in his studio space at the school.

Grantaire was less forthcoming with information when Enjolras asked him why he was staying in the city over the Christmas break. Enjolras’s own parents had chosen to spend the holiday in Europe, and as much as Enjolras would have loved to go to France, he wasn’t going to spend an entire vacation abroad with his parents. Even at their house, where he could shut himself up in his old room, he couldn’t stand being around them.

Grantaire simply said that he wasn’t going home because his parents, quote, “are assholes,” and changed the subject quickly.

As was typical of him, once Enjolras got started with the questioning, he couldn’t stop. It was when Enjolras asked Grantaire what his favourite cereal was that Grantaire interrupted.

“What’s with the third degree?” he asked lightly. “Should I make you some flashcards?”

“Sorry,” Enjolras mumbled. He could have brushed it off, but he felt the need to be honest with Grantaire. “It’s just that I’ve realized… I don’t know you very well. I mean, I see you all the time, but I hardly know anything personal about you. And yet you remembered all of this stuff about me, stuff that I barely mentioned. I feel bad, Grantaire.”

Grantaire didn’t look pleased. “So you’re questioning me out of pity?”

“No!” Enjolras practically yelled. “Not at all! I meant it at the meeting when I said that I wanted to get to know you better, and now, the more I find out, the more I want to know.” He didn’t add that he was finding that he liked Grantaire more and more with every new bit of information that he found out, as he wasn’t sure it would come across the right way.

Grantaire still looked skeptical, so he added, “Seriously, R, I’m having a really good time. I hope we can keep hanging out over the break.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, and Enjolras took that as a yes. “My favourite cereal is Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” he said.

“That’s mine, too,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire smiled. “Well, I suppose we do have something in common after all.”


	2. Grantaire

Grantaire and Enjolras saw plenty of each other over the next few days. They spent a lot of time just watching old reruns on Netflix, as the cold weather made spending time outside seem less and less appealing.

It was nice having Enjolras around, Grantaire thought, even though he could be a little obtuse sometimes. Okay, maybe a little more than just nice. _Okay,_ maybe a lot more than just nice.

There was a time when Grantaire had worshipped Enjolras. Had you asked him a few months earlier (after a few too many drinks), he probably would have told you that he was in love with him. What did it matter that they hardly ever spoke to each other outside of their arguments, or that Enjolras never said anything nice to him? Grantaire knew what he felt.

But that time had passed. It wasn’t love, it was just a crush, and it was certainly unrequited, so there was no sense in Grantaire continuing to debase himself by drooling over Enjolras like some teenager. He was over it.

So when Grantaire opened the door for Enjolras on a sunny Tuesday ten days before Christmas, thinking _god he’s pretty_ as he watched Enjolras take off his long red coat, he definitely had no desire to push Enjolras up against the door he’d just come through and kiss him until his lips were swollen.

Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Why are there boxes everywhere?” Enjolras said, looking around the room suspiciously.

“Because we’re going to put up the Christmas tree!” Grantaire said, with the voice a parent trying to coax their stubborn toddler into eating strained peas. He hadn’t told Enjolras about his plan for the day because he knew what kind of reaction he was likely to get. He had discovered over the past few days that Enjolras’s Christmas spirit levels were so low that Grantaire was tempted to start calling him Ebenezer.

But surprisingly, Enjolras just said, “Okay,” then went and opened the closest box.

***

One hour and one disaster of a tree later, Grantaire was really regretting his decision.

It turned out that Enjolras could, in fact, be coaxed into having some holiday spirit. It also turned out that Enjolras was capable of getting more little strips of tinsel on himself than on the tree, and of forgetting that a tree is a three-dimensional object and putting all of the ornaments on one side.

“How are you so bad at this?” Grantaire asked him as he tried to turn the tree into something presentable. He had just banished Enjolras to the couch and refused any attempt he made at “helping”.

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said. “I haven’t done it in like… ten years.”

“Enjolras, you were thirteen years old ten years ago. Surely you've put up a tree since then.”

Enjolras looked sheepish. “That was about the time I told my parents I wasn’t going to take part in the consumerist farce that is Christmas.”

Grantaire just rolled his eyes very slowly at him. Of course that was the reason.

“I was very extreme when I was a teenager.”

Grantaire burst out laughing. “You think that stopped when you stopped being a teenager?!”

“Hey,” Enjolras said, feigning offence through his laughter. “I’m not that bad now, am I? I helped you put up the tree. I even enjoyed it a little bit.”

“Yeah, you’re not that bad now,” he echoed, smiling. “Though I’m not sure the mess you made of my floor could be called helping.”

It was true – not all of the tinsel that Enjolras had missed the tree with had ended up on his body; a fair amount of it was now embedded in Grantaire’s carpet.

“Sorry,” Enjolras said. “I’ll help you clean it up.”

“That’s okay. I can do it later,” Grantaire replied. He was still thinking about how Enjolras had said he hadn’t decorated for Christmas in ten years. “Why don’t we take the leftover decorations to your apartment so you can put them up there?”

“Really?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire could have sworn that he looked excited.

“Really,” Grantaire said, placing an empty box on the couch and putting the decorations they would bring with them in it. “And you have a piece of tinsel in your hair,” he added, reaching over to pull the glittery thread from Enjolras’s curls.

***

Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment was exactly what Grantaire expected. Clean, minimalist, and boring. The only colour in the entire place came from pictures of Les Amis that were taped on the walls, and Grantaire was positive that they had to have been Courfeyrac’s doing.

Enjolras headed straight into his bedroom when they arrived without comment. Grantaire opened the box of decorations and grabbed a strand of garland to toss over the television. _There,_ he thought, _it’s cozier in here already._

“R, do you want – oh shit!” Enjolras’s exclamation was followed by a blur of motion that streaked across the room, jumped up onto the TV table, and tore the garland down onto the floor.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras. “So, uh, that’s my cat,” Enjolras offered.

Enjolras’s apartment may have met Grantaire’s expectations, but his cat was a different story. Grantaire had pictured Enjolras with one of those white fluffy Persian cats that look like they’ve come straight from a toilet paper commercial. Or maybe one of those weird hairless animals that people claimed were cats.

This cat was the total opposite. Honestly, from the way it was efficiently shredding the garland, it looked more like a raccoon than a cat, albeit a tiny one. It wasn’t a kitten, but it was little for a full grown cat. It was… colourful would be a generous term. If it were a dog, it would have been called a mutt.

Grantaire bent down to get a closer look. “This is Rousseau?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, picking up the end of the garland so he could dangle it over the cat’s head like a toy. “I found her last year around the back of the building. She was literally in the garbage, and she kept meowing really loudly. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“How old is she?”

“The vet thinks she’s around six. There’s no way of knowing.” On the floor, Rousseau caught the garland and ripped it from Enjolras’s hand.

“She’s pretty wild,” Grantaire noted.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said fondly. “She almost ate Hermit Melville once. Combeferre was really mad.”

“Hermit Melville?”

“Combeferre’s hermit crab. He takes it home with him when he goes away for Christmas now because he doesn’t trust her.”

Enjolras had said all of this with the dopiest look that Grantaire had ever seen on his face. It took Grantaire a moment to realize that the expression was affection. He’d never seen Enjolras look at anything – anyone – like that before.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Do you have scissors? And tape? We’re clearly going to have to put all of the decorations out of her reach.”

“In the kitchen, in the drawer beside the fridge,” Enjolras answered, not taking his eyes off the cat, who was now chasing her own tail, the garland abandoned at her feet.

Grantaire managed to make it into the kitchen before he let the grin he was holding back spread across his face. He gave himself five seconds, then grabbed the tape and scissors and headed back into the living room.

When he got there, Enjolras was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Rousseau in his lap, Rousseau happily eating the garland Enjolras was again teasing her with. Hearing Grantaire re-enter the room, Enjolras glanced up at him and smiled a much brighter smile than Grantaire was used to seeing on him, one that showed all of his perfectly straight teeth.

Grantaire felt like he might need to lie down.

_How the hell could he ever have thought that he was over Enjolras?_


	3. Enjolras

“Are you really wearing those shoes?” Grantaire asked. He and Enjolras stood just inside the door of Enjolras’s apartment, Grantaire having just arrived to pick Enjolras up.

“You don’t like them?” Enjolras asked, glancing down at the black ankle boots he had on.

Grantaire laughed. “They’re lovely, but that’s not what I meant. Did you even look out the window this morning?”

Enjolras shook his head, then walked over to the window to look outside.

Overnight, the world had been coated over in a layer of ice. The street looked like a skating rink, the trees poised to shatter above it at any moment.

“Oh,” Enjolras said.

“Yeah,” Grantaire replied. “It’s slippery as fuck out there. I almost fell like five times on the way here, and I’m actually wearing proper footwear.” He pointed down at his feet proudly. “So you should probably wear your winter boots.”

“These are my winter boots,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire just rolled his eyes. “Well, we’re in for a dangerous walk then. Let’s go.”

Enjolras followed him out the door.

“This is for you,” Grantaire said, picking up a package from the floor of the hallway and passing it to Enjolras. It took Enjolras a moment to realize that it was a folding chair, bundled up in a mesh bag. He found the strap and put it over his shoulder. Grantaire picked up a second one for himself, then started off towards the elevator.

“Why do I need a chair?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire still hadn’t told them where they were going – at eight-thirty a.m. on a Saturday, no less.

“You’ll see,” was Grantaire’s reply.

Outside, the ground was even icier than Enjolras had thought. By the time they walked to the end of his block, Enjolras had narrowly avoided falling on the sidewalk three times, despite shuffling along in little penguin-like steps. Grantaire walked in the snow beside the sidewalk instead, an option not available to Enjolras because the snow was higher than his boots.

Once they crossed the street, Enjolras really slipped, and he would have fallen had Grantaire not grabbed him by the lapels of his coat at the last minute. Enjolras dug his fingers into Grantaire’s shoulders to steady himself. The rescue had left them in close proximity to each other, the visible clouds of their breath mixing together. Enjolras blinked twice, then pulled himself upright.

Then next time Enjolras slipped, Grantaire held out his arm for Enjolras to grab onto, and simply never pulled it back. Enjolras tightened his grip.

“So I guess ice skating shouldn’t be on our list of Christmassy things to do for the next week,” Grantaire noted.

“Shut up,” was all Enjolras said back.

They spent the rest of the walk arm-in-arm in comfortable silence. Enjolras would never have thought two weeks ago that such companionship would even be possible between the two of them, but there they were.

It was when the sounds of a marching band started filtering through the streets that Enjolras realized where they were headed.

“It’s the Santa Claus Parade, isn’t it?” he asked.

Grantaire grinned.

They set up their chairs on the curb just in time for the parade to pass by. They were either ten years older or ten years younger than most of the attendees, but Enjolras didn’t mind.

He hadn’t been to a parade in all of the time he could remember – unless protests counted; then he’d been to plenty. He associated them with the other superficial, vacuous things he hated about the holidays, like corporate cooptations of cheer, or the Elf on the Shelf. But most of the parade was made up of local community groups or floats handing out free candy – two things he could really get behind. With a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a bushel of candy canes in the other, he found he was quite enjoying himself.

The company wasn’t bad, either. Grantaire had somehow scored a pair of felt antlers from one of the groups, and the bells attached to them jingled every time he moved his head. He looked happier than Enjolras could ever remember seeing him, though he was growing more used to Grantaire’s smiles as of late.

They left the parade after Santa appeared, both in high spirits, Grantaire chattering on about the design of one of the floats. Enjolras took Grantaire’s arm again unthinkingly.

Even holding on, though, he still managed to trip on the ice. This time, Grantaire caught him around the waist. Enjolras’s long red coat was open and waving in the wind, and one of Grantaire’s hands slipped inside it, his fingers sliding over the material of Enjolras’s sweater at his hip.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said gratefully, for lack of something clever. He righted himself and took Grantaire’s arm again. They started walking. Grantaire continued his discourse on float design, and Enjolras was happy that he kept talking and appeared to pay no mind as Enjolras slid his hand down Grantaire’s arm and intertwined their gloved fingers.

They reached Enjolras’s building far too quickly, and Enjolras was tempted to invite Grantaire inside, but they hadn’t made plans for the rest of the day, and they were already spending a lot of time together as it was. _Surely Grantaire has other things to do,_ Enjolras thought. So he bade him goodbye and went inside alone.

***

Enjolras found himself distracted for the rest of the day. He tried to read, first readings for his thesis paper, then some novel that Jehan had recommended for him, but he couldn’t concentrate. And it was very unlike him to not be able to concentrate.

After dinner, Enjolras decided to take a hot shower. It was warm in his apartment, but the morning spent outside and the icy view from his window had left him chilled. He let the water warm up to an almost scalding temperature, then stepped in. He washed himself with soap, then stood still under the stream of water, letting the near-boiling spray warm him up.

Then, almost instinctively, he let his fingers trail down over his stomach, and took himself in his hand.

He did this sometimes, though probably not as often as others did. He didn’t feel the need to touch himself every single day like he had heard people (Courfeyrac) talk about. But it was nice sometimes, the feeling of release. He had never pictured anyone specific before while doing this – there had never been anyone he wanted to think about. Instead, he normally just focused on the movements, the physical pleasure that he gave himself.

So why could he now clearly see Grantaire’s bright eyes and full lips when he shut his eyes? Why was he fantasizing about Grantaire putting said lips all over his body, or about finding what Grantaire looked like naked? Why did he feel like every part of him that Grantaire had touched, even through his clothing, was now painted with an invisible mark that he could feel like a scalding burn?

He came with a shudder, covering his mouth to stop Grantaire’s name from escaping his lips.

***

 **Enjolras to Combeferre:** _Are you busy?_

 **Combeferre:** _No why?_

 **Enjolras:** _I need to talk to you about something._

**Combeferre:** _Is it serious?_

**Enjolras:** _Kind of._

**Combeferre:** _Okay go ahead._

**Enjolras:** _Remember when we talked about how I thought I might be asexual?_

**Combeferre:** _Yes._

**Enjolras:** _I think that I might be… not._

**Combeferre:** _Not asexual?_

**Enjolras:** _Yeah._

**Combeferre:** _Did something happen??_

**Enjolras:** _I… met someone. Someone that I think I want to do… things with._

**Combeferre:** _Where did you meet them?_

**Enjolras:** _At the grocery store._

**Combeferre:** _…how?_

**Enjolras:** _Um we were both going to buy the last can of the good tomato sauce and we started talking._

**Combeferre:** _What’s his name??_

**Enjolras:** _…Okay, I lied._

**Combeferre:** _It’s Grantaire, isn’t it?_

**Enjolras:** _…Maybe._

**Combeferre:** _I knew it :) So did something happen?_

**Enjolras:** _Not yet. What do I do?????_

**Combeferre:** _Are you asking me for friendly advice or sex tips? Because I think you should ask Courfeyrac for the latter._

**Enjolras:** _Jesus Christ. Definitely the advice._

**Combeferre:** _Okay. My advice is not to get too worried about the label – ace or demi or whatever. Just do what feels right. But at the same time, don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to, and don’t jump into anything without thinking it through a bit first. You have good judgement; you’ll make the right choices._

**Enjolras:** _Okay. Thanks Ferre._

**Combeferre:** _And always use protection ;)_

**Enjolras:** _!!!_


	4. Grantaire

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Grantaire said, smiling into the phone. “I have a question. How many of the following ingredients do you have in your kitchen? Butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, flour, baking powder, salt, icing sugar, milk, food colouring, and corn syrup.”

“Um,” Enjolras said, “Can you maybe repeat those slower?”

Grantaire laughed and obliged.

“Five,” Enjolras said after a moment. “Butter, sugar, eggs, salt, and milk.”

“You don’t do much baking, huh?”

“What do you think?”

Grantaire laughed again. Enjolras could make him so giggly.

“We’ll have to go to the grocery store, then.”

“Okay. Want to meet there in like ten minutes?”

“Nah,” Grantaire said. “I’ll come pick you up and we can go together.”

“Okay,” Enjolras answered, and Grantaire could swear he could hear Enjolras’s smile in his voice before they hung up.

Grantaire might have had ulterior motives regarding going to Enjolras’s apartment to get him rather than meeting him at the store. His plan paid off when Enjolras joined him outside and took his hand again automatically – even though the sidewalk had been well-salted in the four days since the parade – and bumped their shoulders together in place of a greeting.

They had been like this ever since the day of the parade, holding hands when they walked together, or when they sat down to watch TV. Saying that Grantaire was absolutely fucking over-the-moon thrilled about it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration at all.

He wasn’t going to say anything about it until Enjolras did. He knew that Enjolras didn’t date very often – if ever – and he didn’t want to scare him. But more than that, he didn’t feel the _need_ to say anything. What they had together… it was comfortable, and natural. It didn’t require an explanation.

They bought the remaining ingredients and took them back to Enjolras’s place.

“How come we’re doing this here?” Enjolras asked. He put the shopping bag he was holding down on the kitchen counter, and within seconds, Rousseau was in it, biting at the box of baking powder.

“Your oven is way fancier than mine,” Grantaire told him. “And I missed the cat,” he added, petting Rousseau, which did not deter her from her mission to destroy the groceries. “Do you mind us doing it here?”

“No,” Enjolras said. “But I wanted to go to your place so we could make a fire.”

Ah. Enjolras had asked Grantaire if he would clean up the fireplace so that they could make a fire a few days ago, and Grantaire had said that he would. He had done it the day before, bought wood and everything.

“We can make the cookies here and then take them to my place? Sound good?” Enjolras nodded happily. “Good,” Grantaire continued. “Now we can get started if you’ll do something with your cat.” Rousseau, as if on command, tore through the baking powder box with her claws, getting the white powder all over the bag. Enjolras just laughed and picked her up, setting her down on the floor near her food dish.

Enjolras, Grantaire was finding out, was terrible with any skill that involved working with his hands. He couldn’t stir without spilling half of what he was working with. He couldn’t roll dough evenly. He didn’t even know how to set the timer on his oven.

“Does Combeferre cook all of your meals for you?” Grantaire asked him as he put the cookies in to bake.

“I mostly just eat takeout,” he admitted.

Grantaire asked Enjolras to sit on the counter and not touch anything while he mixed the icing – dyed red and green with food colouring.

“Hey, Enj,” he said. “You’ve got a little bit of icing on your face.”

“Where?”

“Right here!” Grantaire yelled as he smeared a glob of red icing on the tip of Enjolras’s nose with his finger.

“Hey!” Enjolras cried out, laughing. Then, to Grantaire’s surprise, he stuck his tongue up and out, and licked more than half of it off.

“Bet you didn’t know I could do that!” he said triumphantly.

“No, I didn’t!” Grantaire laughed. “Here, let me put some more on so I can take a picture.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but allowed Grantaire to put more of the icing on his nose, and then take a picture of him licking it with his tongue, cross-eyed and adorable. Grantaire posted it on his Instagram account, captioning it “Enjolras The Red-Nosed Reindeer”.

It wasn’t long before Grantaire’s phone started going off. Before the cookies came out of the oven, he felt it vibrate three times in his pocket. He wasn’t sure he wanted Enjolras to see whatever had been sent to him, so he decided to hold off on checking it.

The cookies needed to cool before being iced, and Enjolras brought out his laptop of check his newsfeeds while they waited, so Grantaire pulled out his phone on the pretence of boredom. He switched it to silent mode so Enjolras wouldn’t hear him typing.

 **Eponine:** _UMMM_

**Eponine:** _WHAT_

**Eponine:** _Why have I not heard about this yet?!_

**Grantaire:** _I have no idea what you’re talking about :):)_

**Eponine:** _BULLSHIT_

**Grantaire:** _:)_

**Eponine:** _So are you two in love or something???_

**Grantaire:** _No, nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed._

**Eponine:** _Ah, yes, I remember now. You and Enjolras always do cute domestic activities like BAKING COOKIES together. How could I have forgotten?_

**Grantaire:** _We also went to the parade and decorated the tree._

**Eponine:** _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

**Grantaire:** _So maybe some things have changed. But nothing has happened between us yet, so don’t say anything to anyone._

**Eponine:** _Yet?!_

**Grantaire:** _:)_

**Eponine:** _You’re being infuriating._

**Grantaire:** _:D_

**Eponine:** _BYE_

***

Once the cookies were iced (Grantaire let Enjolras ice half of them even though he did it very badly), they packed them neatly in wax paper and carried them over to Grantaire’s apartment on a baking sheet.

When they arrived, Grantaire set about making the fire right away, layering pieces of wood on crumpled-up old newspapers and then lighting them. The sun was just setting, that last orange rays of the day warming the room. With the fire, the light, and the smell of fresh cookies in the air, the place had never seemed so cozy.

While he worked, Enjolras put half of the cookies on a plate and brought them over. There was no seating in the apartment other than the old couch, so they dragged it over in front of the fire. Grantaire brought his laptop out so they could watch Netflix, since the couch was now pointed away from the TV. Enjolras flopped down next to him much closer than usual, their legs pressed right up against each other.

If Grantaire had any doubts left about the status of their relationship, they were absolved when Enjolras leaned over and lay his head down on Grantaire’s shoulder. Enjolras looked up at him, questioning, and Grantaire responded by wrapping his arms around Enjolras, pulling him closer.

They stayed cuddled like that for hours, their hands gently exploring each other’s bodies, the sun disappearing from the room until the only light came from the laptop and the fireplace. All of the cookies were eaten, and Grantaire started to get hungry for dinner, but he was reluctant to ever move from this position. Finally, though, the heat became too much for both of them, so they pushed the couch back and put out the fire.

Grantaire made dinner – spaghetti minus the meatballs – and they ate together on the couch. Grantaire wondered as he cleaned their plates whether he would get to hold Enjolras like that again. But when he got back to the couch, Enjolras was waiting for him with a throw blanket held up at one end for Grantaire to climb under and a shy smile on his face. Grantaire joined him happily, wrapping his arms tightly around Enjolras’s waist and refusing to let go.


	5. Enjolras

Enjolras and Grantaire opened their presents together the night before Christmas, sitting underneath the tree.

It wasn’t a big spread – they had already exchanged Secret Santa gifts with their friends before everyone had gone home, and neither of their parents had sent them anything yet, so there were only two presents. Still, the fire was going and there were more Christmas cookies – it was nice.

Grantaire went first. He pulled off the perfect wrapping paper (Enjolras had had it professionally done at the mall) to reveal a video projector. Grantaire was quiet for a moment, just staring at it.

“It plays DVDs, and you can plug your computer into it,” Enjolras babbled nervously. _What if Grantaire hated it?_ “I thought you could use it to watch movies, or for art… stuff.” Grantaire still wasn’t saying anything, so Enjolras asked, “Do you like it?”

“What?!” Grantaire said, startled out of staring at the gift. “Enjolras, I love it! Seriously, thank you. I’m just trying to process the fact that you got me such a perfect gift – and such an expensive gift. It’s way better than what I got for you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Enjolras said, grabbing for his present, which was in a gift bag filled with tissue paper.

Enjolras pulled a pair of very nice, very warm-looking winter boots from the bag. He smiled at Grantaire.

“These are great,” Enjolras told him.

“Now I won’t have to hold your hand every time we walk outside,” Grantaire said. Enjolras’s disappointment must have shown on his face, because Grantaire winked and laughed at him.

“I’m kidding,” Grantaire said, as he pulled Enjolras in for a hug. “I’ll still want to. Thank you for my present.”

“Thank you for mine,” Enjolras said as he pulled back, pretending that he wasn’t nearly knocked out by how great Grantaire’s hair smelled or how he felt with Grantaire’s arms around him.

“Try them on,” Grantaire urged him.

Enjolras stuck his feet in the boots. They fit perfectly.

“How did you know what size to get?” he asked Grantaire.

“I checked the size of your other shoes while you were in the bathroom once.”

“That’s creepy!”

“How else was I supposed to know?!” Grantaire laughed.

“Still,” Enjolras said, though he was laughing, too.

“Do you want to try this out?” Grantaire said, holding up the projector box. Enjolras nodded.

“I can try it on the walls,” Grantaire said, “but they might be too dark.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Enjolras said, considering the dark green colour that Grantaire’s entire apartment was painted.

“We could also try the ceiling,” Grantaire continued. “But the one out here has stucco, so we’d have to go in my room. Is that too weird?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said. Grantaire got up off the floor and headed into the bedroom, and Enjolras followed.

Actually, if anything was weird, it was that this _wasn’t_ weird at all. Enjolras thought that maybe he should be feeling nervous about accompanying Grantaire, a man who he had hardly known anything about three weeks ago, into his bedroom, but he didn’t. At all. It just felt _right_.

“You can come in, you know,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras realized that he was still standing in the doorway. Nervous or not, it still felt strange intruding on someone’s private space like that. Grantaire was sitting on his knees on the bed, setting up the projector on the shelf that functioned as a headboard. He patted the fluffy white duvet beside him without turning back to look at Enjolras. Enjolras went and sat down gingerly on the edge of the double bed.

Grantaire got the projector set up within minutes, his computer’s desktop flashing onto the ceiling. He gestured for Enjolras to lay down while he set up Netflix. He put on some Christmas movie that Enjolras stopped paying attention to five minutes in, when Grantaire lay down on his back beside him and took his hand.

“This is a really great present, Enjolras,” Grantaire said a few minutes later, his voice thick.

The movie played on, and Enjolras tried to keep up with what was going on, but the way Grantaire was rubbing his thumb in circles on Enjolras’s palm was much more interesting. Enjolras was glad it was dark, because he could feel his face turning bright red.

When the movie ended, Grantaire jumped up immediately and said, “I want to try something.” Enjolras excused himself to go to the washroom.

When he got back, the room was transformed. Grantaire had somehow filled the ceiling with stars, like at the planetarium, and there was Rat Pack Christmas music playing softly in the background. It had only taken a few minutes for Grantaire to set it up, so it was likely just a muted Youtube video combined with iTunes, but to Enjolras, it felt like magic.

“Merry Christmas, Enjolras,” Grantaire said humbly.

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “Merry Christmas, Grantaire,” he replied. “This is the best one I can remember.”

Grantaire smiled wide. “Me too,” he said, and then he held his arms open, and Enjolras walked across the room and fell into them.

They lay back on the bed, Enjolras curled around Grantaire’s chest, and watched the stars in silence for a few minutes. Enjolras couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this happy, this settled.

It was Grantaire who finally broke the silence. “You have a lot of freckles up close,” he said, tilting Enjolras’s chin up so they were facing each other. He ghosted his fingers over Enjolras’s cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.

“You have a beautiful smile,” Enjolras replied, the words coming out before he could really think about them. He was rewarded with a shy grin from Grantaire.

“I like you a lot, Enjolras,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras ducked his head self-consciously, but made sure that he was looking Grantaire right in the eyes when he said, “I like you a lot, too.”

In the background, Bing Crosby sang, _a beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight…_

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras swallowed, then nodded. Grantaire closed the distance between them.

The kiss was gentle, Grantaire’s lips softer against his than he had imagined. Enjolras wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just kept them where they were around Grantaire’s shoulders, but he felt Grantaire comb his fingers through his own curls once before they broke apart for air. Enjolras thought again that he should maybe have been more nervous, but he didn’t think he’d ever felt so sure of something in his life. And Enjolras was a man of very strong convictions.

Grantaire let out a soft giggle. “That was even better than I thought it would be,” he said dreamily.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “That was my first kiss ever,” he admitted.

“I thought it might be,” Grantaire said softly.

“Why? Was it bad?” Enjolras asked, mortified.

“No!” Grantaire said. “I just meant that I had never seen you with anyone before. God, Enjolras, how could you think that was bad? It was incredible.”

Enjolras was relieved. “So do you want to do it again then?”

“Very, very much,” Grantaire said. Enjolras was the one to initiate the second kiss.

They stayed together longer this time, mouths parting and tongues exploring. Enjolras gave up on trying to figure out the “right” thing to do with his hands and just touched Grantaire wherever he felt like it, moving his hands over Grantaire’s chest and up to cup his face. From the sounds Grantaire was making, it was clear that he was doing something right.

“Will you stay here tonight?” Grantaire asked when they took a break. “You can borrow some pajamas. We don’t have to do anything more than this; I just want to see your face when I wake up tomorrow.”

Enjolras happily told Grantaire that he would stay. He couldn’t think of a better way to wake up on Christmas morning than with Grantaire beside him.


	6. Grantaire

Grantaire woke with Enjolras wrapped around him.

“Hi,” he mumbled into Enjolras’s hair, half of which was stuck in his mouth.

“Five more minutes,” Enjolras whined, still half-asleep.

“Fine,” Grantaire laughed. “Five more minutes.”

Grantaire would gladly have stayed there all day, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was already ten-thirty and he had a Christmas dinner to prepare. He managed to drag Enjolras out of the bed fifteen minutes later.

Grantaire made eggs for breakfast, and they ate together on the couch, reading and replying to the Christmas messages that their friends had sent them.

“Should we say something about us?” Enjolras asked. “Like that we’re together? I mean... are we together?”

“Is that what you want?” Grantaire asked, feeling nervous. Then he changed his mind. “Sorry. I don’t want to put you on the spot like that. I would like us to be together. Very much.”

Enjolras nodded. “I want that too,” he said softly.

Grantaire grinned. “Okay. Will you be my boyfriend, Enjolras?”

“Yes,” Enjolras answered. “Will you be mine?” Grantaire nodded and gave him a kiss.

“I think we should keep it a secret for now,” Grantaire said. “Not that I’m not dying to tell everyone that we’re now dating, but I want to see the looks on their faces when I tell them. However, I’m pretty sure Eponine already knows what’s going on, even though I denied it.””

“That sounds good,” Enjolras agreed. “And I already told Combeferre that I like you. I don’t think he’ll tell anyone, though. I mean, if he was going to tell someone, it would be Courfeyrac, and if Courf knew, everyone would know by now.”

They both laughed at that, and Grantaire pulled Enjolras in for another kiss.

Enjolras had to go home for a few hours, to shower and to make sure that Rousseau had food and clean litter. Grantaire had offered to cook the dinner at Enjolras’s apartment instead – Grantaire really did love Enjolras’s oven – but Enjolras had insisted on having Christmas at Grantaire’s, where the tree and the fireplace were. Grantaire had relented.

While he was gone, Grantaire got started on dinner. It was slightly easier than a usual Christmas dinner, as he wasn’t cooking any meat, but prepping the vegetables still took an hour in itself.

He was just putting the potatoes into the oven when Enjolras returned. He knocked, which Grantaire thought was ridiculous at this point, but Grantaire was glad he did, because when he opened the door, the sun was just setting over the houses across the street, and the light illuminated Enjolras’s bright blonde hair from behind, making him look like something out of a Renaissance painting.

“God you’re beautiful,” Grantaire said bluntly. Enjolras blushed, which only served to further the resemblance to a work of art, but then he sneezed out of the blue, his whole body shaking. Grantaire laughed before pulling him inside by the wrist; he felt much more solid than any painting.

Enjolras wanted to help with dinner, but Grantaire had finally learnt his lesson about letting Enjolras help with things. He gave him permission to set the coffee table up like a dinner table instead. They ate a huge meal of mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, coleslaw, corn, and bread rolls – both of them were stuffed by the end of it. Grantaire had bought an apple pie from the grocery store a few days earlier, but neither of them had room for it yet.

Instead of dessert, they moved to the bedroom, to lay down in the dark and let their dinner settle. After about twenty minutes of settling, however, their innocent cuddles turned into a full-on makeout session.

The kissing was more intense that what they had done the day before, both of them ending up shirtless and breathless. The only reason Grantaire moved away from Enjolras’s lips was that he had discovered that Enjolras’s chest was just as freckled as his face, and he was determined to kiss every single freckle. Other than that, though, Grantaire kept his hands to himself and didn’t try to initiate anything else. He knew Enjolras hadn’t done any of this before, and he wanted him to feel in control of the situation.

When things did escalate, it happened by accident. Grantaire lay on his back with Enjolras half on top of him. Enjolras tried to move up higher on the bed to press kisses up Grantaire’s neck, but when he moved, he aligned their hips perfectly so that their erections brushed up against each other through their pants. Grantaire froze below him, expecting Enjolras to freak out, but instead Enjolras threw his head back and moaned. Grantaire leaned up and kissed his exposed throat messily, then tentatively raised his hips to push them against Enjolras’s again. Enjolras responded enthusiastically, grinding down hard onto Grantaire.

“I want,” Enjolras mumbled in Grantaire’s ear a few minutes later.

“You want what?”

“I want you to touch me,” Enjolras whispered. “And I want to touch you.”

“How?” Grantaire asked. “Sorry to be clinical about it, but I don’t want to accidentally do anything you’re not ready for.”

Enjolras raised himself up so he was straddling Grantaire. He popped the button of his jeans open with one hand and used the other to grab Grantaire’s hand and bring it to rest at his waistband. He cocked an eyebrow, as if challenging Grantaire to make a move. Grantaire pressed his hand against Enjolras’s zipper, and Enjolras brought his hand up to his mouth, as if to stop himself from crying out. That was all the confirmation Grantaire needed.

He eased Enjolras off of him, so that they were laying side by side, then set about taking his pants off.

“Yours, too,” Enjolras told him, once his own jeans were on the floor. Grantaire acquiesced.

They kissed again, more chaotic and desperate this time, their hips crashing together in uneven motions, uncontrolled thrusts. Grantaire slid a hand down between them, and Enjolras eagerly rutted against his palm, which Grantaire thought was possibly the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

Once Enjolras was writhing beside him, Grantaire removed both of their boxers. A million filthy thoughts ran through his head when he saw Enjolras’s cock, but he quieted his mind and reached into the top drawer of his nightstand for lube instead.

He lubed himself up first – not failing to notice Enjolras staring as he did – and then gingerly took Enjolras’s cock in his hand, stroking him a few times until he was slicked up. Enjolras let his eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open as Grantaire touched him, breathing heavily.

“Is this okay?” Grantaire asked, as he slid his hand up and down.

“ _Yes_ ,” Enjolras moaned. “Please don’t stop.” He reached his own hand down to circle Grantaire’s cock, stroking him in time with Grantaire’s movements on his own.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Grantaire swore. It loosened his tongue. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Enjolras,” he babbled. “You’re so hot; you look so perfect.”

Grantaire used his free hand to grab Enjolras by the ass and pull him closer, so that they were pressed right against each other. Then he stopped Enjolras from touching him and wrapped his own hand around both of them instead.

It was much better, Grantaire thought, to feel Enjolras’s cock against his own, both of them hard and throbbing. Enjolras seemed to agree, as he was biting his bottom lip hard and panting.

“Fuck, Grantaire, I’m close,” Enjolras said between breaths. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

He did, letting out a loud cry, his come dripping down onto Grantaire’s cock, making it even slicker between them. The feeling of the warm wetness, combined with the look on Enjolras’s face as he finished, was enough to send Grantaire over the edge, too.

As soon as he’d finished, Grantaire used his clean hand to pull Enjolras in for a kiss.

“That was so good,” he told him. “You made me feel so good. Was it good for you?”

Enjolras nodded as Grantaire pulled back. “It was really nice,” he said. He was smiling, and Grantaire was so glad.

“I’m gonna get something to clean us up with,” Grantaire said.

He quickly cleaned himself up in the bathroom, then wet a hand towel with warm water to take back to the bedroom. Enjolras reached for the towel when he returned, but Grantaire held onto it.

“I’d like to do it, if that’s okay,” he said. Enjolras furrowed his brow, but agreed.

Grantaire couldn’t exactly say why, but he wanted to be the one to clean Enjolras up, to take care of him. Enjolras flinched at first at the sensitivity, but Grantaire was gentle, and soon Enjolras closed his eyes and hummed softly under Grantaire’s touch. When he was finished, Grantaire folded the towel up and placed it on the ground, then climbed back beside Enjolras and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They stayed together, unspeaking, for half an hour. Grantaire was cold, so he pulled the covers up over both of them. Enjolras was cuddled in his arms, and seemed content, but Grantaire wasn’t used to seeing him so quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said against his chest. “But there’s something I want to tell you, and it’s kind of weird to talk about.”

“Okay…” Grantaire prompted.

“Um…,” Enjolras started. Then he took a deep breath. “Up until like two weeks ago, I thought that I might be asexual, because I had never wanted to do anything sexual with anyone. Until I started hanging out with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Does that bother you?”

“No,” Grantaire said, shaking his head. “Of course it doesn’t bother me. Why would it?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said shyly.

“You liked what we did, right? It didn’t make you feel bad in any way?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Because you can tell me if you didn’t. I won’t be mad and I won’t make you do it again.”

“I want to do it again, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, sounding more like himself.

“Well, good then,” said Grantaire. “So are you demisexual?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said, biting his lip. “I don’t want to put a label on it yet.”

“Okay,” Grantaire said. “That’s fine. Whatever-sexual you are, I’m happy to be with you, and I’m happy that you trust me enough to talk to me about it.”

“Good,” Enjolras said simply.

They lay in silence a few minutes longer before Grantaire spoke up.

“Since we’re sharing secrets,” he said, “there’s something that I should tell you.”

“What?” Enjolras said suspiciously.

“Well,” Grantaire said slowly. _Rip the band-aid off,_ he told himself. “I don’t know if you knew this, but I kind of had a crush on you before this month. Like… for years.”

Enjolras was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know,” he said softly.

“Well, apparently our friends are good secret keepers then, because everyone else knew,” Grantaire said. “But, the thing is, it wasn’t really a crush. It was more of a – sorry if this sounds creepy – but it was more of an obsession. Because I didn’t really know you. I thought of you as like this perfect, god-like creature that was completely unattainable.”

Enjolras frowned. “And you don’t think that now?”

“Not at all,” Grantaire continued. “Because I know you now. I really know you. I know that you can’t decorate a Christmas tree to save your life. And that you have a cat that literally came out of the garbage. And I like this you so much better than the idealized version of you I had in my head.”

“So, you like me because I’m worse than you thought I was?” Enjolras said, half-offended, half-amused.

“No,” Grantaire said, laughing. “I like you because I know the _real_ you now. And the real you is wonderful.”

Enjolras smiled wide, then turned suddenly serious.

“I didn’t know you very well before this, either,” he said. “And now I’m so sorry that I didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Grantaire said lightly. “It happens to the best of us. We’re here together now; that’s what matters.” He tipped Enjolras’s chin up and kissed him deeply to remind him of how far they’d come.

“That’s what matters,” Enjolras repeated when they parted.


	7. Epilogue

The Amis’ New Year’s party was held at Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment that year. No one was happier about this choice than Rousseau, who got to steal all of the party favours she wanted from guests and got to eat little pieces of cheese and Polish sausage from people’s hands.

Courfeyrac had decorated the apartment, which meant it was completely over the top, with streamers and balloons everywhere. They had set up Grantaire’s projector (which he deceitfully said was a gift from his sister) so that it shined light directly onto a disco ball Courfeyrac had hung from the ceiling.

No one in the group knew yet that Enjolras and Grantaire were together. In keeping their secret, the two hadn’t spent much time together since Combeferre returned to the city on the 27th. They managed to sneak in some time while Combeferre went to work, but both Enjolras and Grantaire found themselves missing the other quite often.

They had a surprise planned, though, which meant dedication to keeping the secret. At that night’s party, they had barely spoken to each other, only communicating through furtive glances and a few whispers when no one was paying attention. The others were either too drunk or having too much fun to notice if Enjolras and Grantaire were standing closer to one another than usual, or laughing more than they normally did together.

With five minutes left until midnight, people started drifting towards who they want to kiss when the ball dropped. Cosette and Marius gravitated towards one another, as did Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet. Strangely, Enjolras saw Courfeyrac surreptitiously get Jehan to move off the couch so that he could sit down next to Combeferre. Enjolras hovered by the door to the kitchen, waiting for Grantaire to come to him, which he did at 11:59.

“Are you sure you’re ready for them to know?” Grantaire asked quietly.

“Positive,” Enjolras said, briefly brushing his hand against Grantaire’s. “How I feel about you shouldn’t be a secret.”

They turned then to watch the countdown, Grantaire slipping an arm around Enjolras once everyone was distracted.

_10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…_

“Happy New Year, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, barely audible over the noisemakers people were blowing. Someone switched the music to Auld Lang Syne. “Let’s give them a show.”

Grantaire tugged Enjolras in for a kiss by his shirt collar, then he got a hold of him under his legs and lifted him up, pinning him against the doorframe. Enjolras wrapped his legs around Grantaire’s waist, supporting himself with one hand on Grantaire’s shoulder and tangling the other in his boyfriend’s hair. Most of Enjolras’s height was in his long legs, so Grantaire actually had to lean down a bit to kiss him like this.

For the first twenty seconds, no one noticed them, everyone being too distracted with their own New Year’s kiss. The room gradually grew quieter around them, until they were finally interrupted by the sound of glass breaking.

Grantaire set Enjolras down, and they turned to face their friends. Everyone was staring now, jaws on the floor. The sound of breaking glass had come from Courfeyrac, who had dropped his champagne glass at his feet upon seeing them. Combeferre was bent over at his feet, trying to pick up the fragments and trying to keep Courfeyrac from landing on them as he jumped up and down.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” Courfeyrac yelled. He stepped over the glass and forcibly dragged Enjolras and Grantaire back to the couch. “You two are going to sit down right now and tell us every single detail of what happened while we were gone!” Courfeyrac grabbed a noisemaker and blew out a celebratory tune.

“Courf, will you stop—” Enjolras started.

“Ah, let him get it out of his system,” Grantaire said. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” their friends all yelled at once.

“Okay,” Grantaire said. “Maybe _my boyfriend_ can start.”

Enjolras laughed at the way his friends’ eyes all bugged out even more than they already had. Then he moved closer to Grantaire, letting Grantaire pull him into his arms, and he started to tell their story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading; I hope you enjoyed this one! I've got some more Christmasy stuff coming in the next few days if you're looking for more! :)


End file.
